Only Time Will Tell
by sadiered
Summary: Nationally-ranked American figure skaters Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez train as Olympic hopefuls. "It is fresh and it is fruitful if I win, but if I lose. Oh, I don't know."
1. The New Day Dawns

"_Welcome back to NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships here in the lovely TD Garden building in Boston. I'm Rod Remington, your sports correspondent for tonight and with me is former Nationals silver medalist, Cassandra July. Thank you for joining me, Cassandra."_

"_Of course, Rod."_

"_Now, for you folks at home who are just tuning in, we're in the first day of competition here in Boston and the ice is hot tonight. Up now, we have the remainder of the Pairs' short program. For those who don't know, can you explain a little about pairs, Cassandra?"_

"_Sure, Rod. Well, like the name suggests, it's a pair of skaters, a man and a woman, who skate together. In a pair."_

"_Excellent, thank you, Cassandra. And we've already seen many excellent teams skate tonight, you can see the leader board there on the screen as the last round of skaters finish their warm up. There are some fierce competitors in this group, including last year's title winners, Scott Cooper and Missy Gunderson, who have been leading the US pairs team for two years. If they win tonight, it will be their third. This season-"_

* * *

Brittany Pierce rocked up on her toe picks, sending any nervous thoughts out through the motion of her blades on the rubber mat below. To her right, she could see her partner, Mike Chang, stretching out his arms. He didn't need to. They were warmed up, stretched out, and had run a few jumps and a lift. Brittany had even already been through the short stretch routine she did every time before she stepped on to the ice and been given her final reassurance from her best friend. Everything was ready. They were ready. After a long year of training and a whole lot of hard work, they were ready to win this. Or, at least, place well.

Still, this was a big competition and, though they had done well last year, coming in above half of the other competitors, Brittany wanted to show everyone how much they had grown as skaters this year. She wanted to have a good performance and feel the electricity of the crowd. They had put in hours upon hours of training and conditioning and lifting and running and practicing all the time... Of course, she couldn't help but consider what winning this competition would really mean. Every year, the United States Figure Skating Association held a series of events leading up to the final championship, determining the best skaters in the country and the international team for the year.

And with the Olympics only a month or so away, it was a very good time to qualify for the international team.

Brittany turned to look at some of the spectators. She knew that the seats this far down, the people that she could see, they were expensive seats that sold out in hours. When Brittany had first moved to Boston at thirteen, she had begged her mother for tickets to sit that close, to be able to see every facial expression, every mark on the ice, to be able to live and breathe the sport she had devoted her life to. By chance, nationals that year had been in Boston, in the exact stadium she was in now, where one of Boston's biggest teams played regularly. Competitive spirit was alive in the building. Her mother had been able to get tickets, but only a few rows from the top. Brittany understood now why, considering the several thousand dollars that her mom would have had to spend, months before they had even moved, just to be able to sit in the seats she was looking at now.

It had been an amazing experience, all the same, even after Brittany's small disappointment to be so far away. Her mom had pointed out how they could see the layouts of the routine from their height, a bonus to sitting so far up in the stands. Brittany almost could still feel the way that she had squeezed her mom's hand tightly as she had watched the incredible lifts, jumps, and steps that she hoped someday to accomplish, feeling the grace and power as if it were her own.

Her very best friend, Santana Lopez, had sat beside her the whole time. It was almost an unspoken understanding between the two families that taking one meant taking the other. They'd had a medium popcorn wedged between their legs and followed the salty popcorn with sips from the red slurpies in their hands, shivering in their matching skate jackets. Brittany definitely could still remembered how Santana's bright red lips had made her smile look so sparkling and how they had stayed up half the night, whispering in their sleeping bags on Brittany's floor about their favorite routines and costumes they wanted to wear when they grew up.

And now, six years later, she was one of those people, one of those skaters doing daring feats and making them look easy so that hundreds of little kids in the audience and even at home watching on the big tv in the living room with their families would go to the rink the next day and beg their coach to learn how to do an axel, right now. Her skinny, too long legs had filled out, and she was the one with the grace and the power, for real.

That's what made it easy to send the nerves out of her toe picks for Brittany, just knowing that if Mike threw her up into the air, looking like it caused them no effort at all, and she landed cleanly, her back that perfect arch, her arms out, her smile on bright as her blade made a pleasant whisper on the ice, that she would inspire a kid like her. She would be able to tell them all about the joy that skating was.

A cheer broke her thoughts, bringing her back to the ice in time to watch the last few seconds of the previous program. It never really bothered Brittany to watch. It didn't matter how good or bad the other skaters did; it just mattered how well she did.

As the music came to a close and the announcer repeated the names of Blaine Anderson and Tina Cohen-Chang from Chicago, Brittany turned to look at Mike. He stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his eyes, causing her to laugh and cross her eyes back.

It was easy to skate with Mike. They always did their best, fought for a high score, but never let it get to them. If she stumbled or he missed a step, then they had a goal for the next time they worked. That was why they were still such a strong team, even after so many years as a pair. Skating well together, doing the absolute best that they could and improving when they couldn't, that was always more important than the final score. As the team before them left the ice, Mike took her hand and Brittany stepped out onto the ice.

It was always amazing, that first step onto the ice, feeling the friction and physics of every day life fall away, leaving nothing but her partner, herself, and a stretch of perfect ice. To some, the frozen surface might be unforgiving. To Brittany, it was freeing. It was peace. It was almost like home. They quickly fell into rhythm skating around the ice together, motions in synch like two cogs in a machine, waiting to hear their name so they could take their place in the center and begin.

A smooth voice came over the announcements, "Competing next and representing the Skating Club of Boston, please welcome Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang." Brittany gripped Mike's hand as they glided toward the center of the ice, arms out to the judges and huge smiles on their faces. Brittany felt her nerves rise for a moment, her stomach tight and her knees weak.

But then she took the opening pose, her back pressing into Mike's, one foot cocked up, her head tilted back, and she felt the energy of the crowd. Like a friend, waiting to see her do her best. Brittany's smile grew.

* * *

"_Next up are Mike Chang and Brittany Pierce from the Skating Club of Boston. This is their second year at the senior level. Last year, they came in tenth place, didn't they?"_

"_That's right, Rod. They've been a team for the last six years and were able to scoop up both the novice and intermediate national titles. Two years ago, they won the silver medal at the junior level. These guys are definitely ones to watch though. They've been working hard all year and they've really got some enormous jumps and throws. I think they definitely are going to be big contenders for one of those top three spots."_

"_Absolutely, Cassandra, and you know, they're still fairly young. Brittany is nineteen, Mike is twenty-two, these are good competitive ages for pairs skaters, are they not?"_

"_Of course, yes. And the short is their strong routine, where they can shine with their technical strength. I saw pieces of this during practice earlier today and it's very exciting. Their struggle, though, is that emotionality, really selling the music, and I'm not totally sure they've learned how to do that."_

"_Well, we'll see how they do today, as they go ahead with their first big skill, a triple twist lift. Wow! I can see what you mean about that technical skill! Did you see the height on that?"_

"_Yes, they'll score a lot of points for that. His balance was good when he threw her up, she definitely made three clean revolutions in the air. It'll be up to the judges to determine, but I think they'll also get points for the way that he got his hands down before he caught her. It was really effortless."_

"_Wow, Cassandra, really, if they can keep that up for the rest of this competition, we might be looking at new champions."_

* * *

There was no fighting the grin on Brittany's face, no matter if she and Mike were supposed to be fierce to match their pirate themed music. It didn't seem to matter how many times Shelby made them drill the emotions of the piece, how many times she had to explain about how Brittany and Mike were fighting to the death, trying to outmaneuver and outwit each other. When it came time for the competition, Brittany felt too much joy at the feeling of the ice to hide anything. And right now, she could feel them nailing every single move, their steps in between clean and together, nothing inviting loss of points. Mike was doing a slightly better job at glaring than Brittany was, probably because he enjoyed the part of pirate so much, but she wasn't sure that he would be able to keep the smile off his face as they moved into the next part.

It was easily their favorite sequence of the routine and they had practiced it until it was perfect and then practiced it some more, until even their coach had nothing to say. And when Shelby Cochran couldn't find a criticism, it was usually a good sign. As the music swelled and shifted, becoming heavier and more dire, they moved smoothly down from the lift. Brittany could feel Mike's hands changing position on her waist, waiting for the right beat, the right feeling before she tumbled forward out of the air, landing smoothly to the cheers of the crowd. She loved when a routine felt like this, like a perfect game of tetris, every piece falling precisely into place.

Brittany grinned at Mike, bringing up an imaginary sword and pointing it at him. He responded with the same movement, bowing at the waist before they took off, skating around each other, completing the same set of steps on opposite feet. It looked easy, Brittany knew, but the exact edges of their blades, the crossovers, the quickness and the closeness of their steps made it anything but. There were very few people in the world, much less the country, who could perfect a sequence like that. Halfway across the ice, passing over the logo in the middle, they "lost" their swords. Brittany's smile grew as she heard the audience clapping along to the beat of the music. She swung her arm towards Mike, who blocked it and returned the blow, moving together now.

She had been right about Mike. Once they got going, he was just as bad as she was. The grin on Mike's face matched hers as they fought, performing the complicated steps that were part of their trademark. After so much dancing outside of skating, it was no wonder they took the joy in those elements back to the ice with them.

Brittany could feel the energy of the audience, of Mike, of the judges, and knew they were going to really nail the rest of this routine, too. She could just feel it. Mike caught her fist, aimed for his face, spinning her around and falling perfectly into the correct hold, both skating backwards, their hands ready and gripping each other's. They completed their crossovers, each movement of their blades in perfect synch as they brought their left skates over, each stroke strong.

It was almost like time stood still for a moment, the crowd disappeared, as Brittany crossed her foot over once more, holding the position for a second before, perfectly timed with the music, she and Mike both uncoiled, extending and lifting.

Brittany soared off the ice, completing all three rotations with ease, before landing. Her blade made almost no noise, coming down on the ice exactly right. Brittany shot out her arms and her free leg, controlling her rotation easily with the perfection of the landing. If she hadn't been smiling before, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself now. The roar of the crowd told her everything she needed to know.

* * *

"_Wow, what amazing height on that one. You know, Rod, Team USA might be looking at a great contender for Sochi in a month. The other pairs are really going to have to step up their game if they want to win out one of the spots over this team. They are absolutely on tonight."_

"_You're right, Cassandra. And- Oh, did you see who was just there on the screen, watching from the barrier? It looks like Santana Lopez is here."_

"_She definitely is. Lopez is a ladies single skater, but she never misses one of Pierce and Changs's routines. She and Pierce started at the same rink, didn't they?"_

"_Yes, Brittany originally came from a small club in Ohio, where Santana also started out. The two have been best friends and training together since they were four. Brittany has told us before that Santana is her good luck charm. If that's true, she's certainly working for them tonight! Did you see the togetherness on that jump?"_

* * *

There wasn't much left now. Brittany had seen Mike out of the corner of her eye, pulling out of the jump at the exact same time as her, holding the landing for the same amount of beats, before they grabbed hands again, performing more crossovers to build power for their final spin. They were going to get big points for that jump. She hadn't seen Mike's take off, but she could tell from his landing that they had both managed three rotations. The spin they had left was pretty unique, but it was a partner spin, both of them together, and that meant that they didn't have to worry about keeping in synch with each other, because they were spinning as one.

Brittany could feel the energy of the crowd as the routine came to a close and it gave her the burst of energy that she needed to add a little extra speed to the spin. She felt Mike fit his hips behind hers, both of them spinning together, a leg stretched back and their bodies parallel to the ice. If this was the speed they were going for their camel spin, she couldn't wait to pull herself in and see how fast they began to spin when they were in a tighter position.

At the squeeze of his fingers, Brittany stood and brought her foot up, kicking over Mike's head as he moved down to a sitting position, low on the ice, his hands around her knee as she held her leg up straight. The change in position made them spin even faster, and Brittany's grin grew as the audience became a blur, only their applause and cheers to let her know they were still there.

She kicked down again as Mike rose, narrowly missing his head. That had always been her least favorite part of the routine, as she was so afraid of somehow kicking her partner and great friend right across the face with what was essentially a knife. However, when she had brought it up, Shelby had talked for a long time about how important it was to carry the theme throughout the routine and then had Brittany and Mike practice the spin twenty-five times in a row, until it was absolute muscle memory. It was still dangerous and Brittany was still careful when she did it, but she grew comfortable enough with it after so many times that she could be okay with it.

Brittany caught her foot behind her, bending back slightly as Mike's hands wrapped around her waist. They spun, quick and centered, until a few beats before the last, gliding out of the spin at the center of the rink. Mike dropped to one knee, and Brittany mimed kneeing him in the back, the final blow of the fight that had been their routine. Mike sprawled on the ice and Brittany struck her triumphant pose.

The cheers were deafening.

With a laugh, Brittany reached for Mike and helped pull him up, instantly wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. As much as she had felt the crowd while they were in the routine, felt how involved and excited they were, it wasn't until the very end, the cheers that they got that made her realize how connected they had felt. This was their hometown crowd, after all, and they clearly loved the routine.

Her heart singing with pride, Brittany took Mike's hand and bowed to each side of the rink, the gesture gaining an extra sweeping flair with her joy. She knew that was their best, no matter what the scores said. They couldn't have done the routine any better and they managed to do it in front of people who really cared about them and how well they did. They skated off to the side, Mike pausing to scoop a rose off the ice as several little girls in matching dresses darted out to collect the things being thrown on the ice.

As they stepped off, Brittany's grin grew as she finally caught sight of her very best friend, Santana, standing there, holding Brittany's sparkly blue and purple skate guards in her hands, her pretty, million dollar smile across her face. Brittany immediately darted forward, hopping onto the mat just on the other side of the opening and bending down a bit to pull Santana into a tight hug, necessary since Santana was wearing boots and Brittany, skates. "You were so great!" Santana said in her ear. "Amazing, Brittany. Really."

Brittany gave Santana an extra tight squeeze as thanks and straightened back up, accepting her guards from Santana. She pulled them on and hugged Santana one more time, before going to sit in the kiss and cry booth, a bench in front of a backdrop with the media cameras pointing towards it, where they waited for their scores. Brittany sat in the middle. Mike followed her, settling down on one side, and Shelby took the other.

Brittany was still looking back at Santana, who was smiling more of the shy, sweet smile that Brittany had loved from the first time she had caught sight of it, years and years ago. It took Mike nudging her in the ribs for her to remember to thank the people that she wanted to, shouting out to the skating club, her parents, and Ashley, before sending a smile at Santana again. She had asked once, a long time ago, if Santana would be allowed to sit with them, but Shelby had said no.

"The scores, please, for Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang." Brittany sat up a little straighter, eyes glued to the board where her scores would appear. The crowd quieted, the entire arena seeming to pause for a moment. "For the short program, Pierce and Chang have scored a total of 62.51 points, putting them in first place." Brittany stood up as soon as she heard the score, her fist pumping into the air. That was their best score ever. Maybe there was something to the idea of a home court advantage after all. Or maybe it was all the hours she had put in with Mike. Either way, they were in a great place going into the free skate. Already up, Brittany headed off the small platform to give her best friend another hug.

"I knew you could do it!" Santana said in her ear, letting herself be pulled onto her toes.

"I know you did." Brittany replied, having a harder time hiding her smile than when she had been skating a few minutes ago. She was trying not to get too excited. It was only the short program after all. The free skate was longer and required more emotionality from her and Mike. The score was larger meaning it counted for more of their overall score. Still, more than 61 points was definitely a good headstart for the free skate tomorrow. "Thank you for believing in us."

"Of course, Britt. Always." Santana said. Brittany looked back and forth between Santana's brown eyes, sparkling beautiful and not just because of the glittery grey make up on her eyes. Santana had obviously started getting ready for her own routine which wouldn't be for another few hours, though she was still wearing her big, puffy coat and boots lined with faux sheep skin. Brittany curled her hands around Santana's arms, just above her elbows. She believed every word that Santana said with her whole heart.

They had been friends since the first day of skating lessons, fifteen years ago in Ohio. And now they were both rising to the top of their fields. It might not have turned out exactly how they imagined all those years ago, but it was a pretty awesome place to be. Brittany opened her mouth to say something to Santana, but was interrupted by Mike calling, "Hey, Pierce! Press," he said, nodding towards the reporters waiting for them.

Brittany gave him a thumbs up and then held out one finger, letting him know that she'd make it over in a moment. "I guess I've got to go be a fox," she said with a shrug, the fingers of her left hand squeezing into the plush of Santana's thick jacket for a moment. She watched the quirk of Santana's eyebrow as her forehead contracted slightly, the look that she got when she trying to work out exactly what Brittany meant. Brittany smiled softly. She could always count on Santana to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, Britt," Santana said after a moment, the pinch in her forehead letting Brittany know that she still hadn't quite figured it out yet but that she wasn't done trying. "I'll be in the back room. I still need to stretch and change."

Brittany nodded. "I'll come find you." She gave Santana's arm one more squeeze and jogged off to meet up with Mike at the entrance to the press area, her guards making a loud smacking sound against the tile and mats. Press wasn't particularly fun, but they were part of the whole package of getting to do what she loved. She just wished they would ask questions that were more interesting. There were only so many ways to talk about how she and Mike obviously wanted to win, but would be happy with doing their best before she had to start slipping in something to entertain herself.

Just before she and Mike walked through the doorway, she heard her name behind her. Brittany turned to see Santana, calling from where she had walked to. "Newshounds?" She asked. Brittany realized that Santana had figured out her reference and laughed, raising a thumbs up over her head. Santana flashed her one of her big, honest smiles and headed off towards the back rooms with a spring in her step.

Brittany turned to Mike and laughed at the half-amused, half-bemused expression on his face. Mike was a good guy and never questioned her silly jokes with Santana. "Come on, Chang-a-lang. Let's get this over," she said, threading her arm around his waist and stepping forward.

* * *

By the third reporter, a lot of the shine had already come off of their big score. It was tedious trying to answer these questions over and over again. Most of the time, the few actual press around after competitions were for diehard skating magazines and they usually had more interesting questions. Brittany loved to talk about the training that they had done to finally land their side-by-side jumps in synch. That was sharing her joy and her victory with the people who loved it, from the reporters at the scene to the readers who would be logging on tonight or flipping through the magazine in a couple of days, wanting to know more about the skaters they had just watched.

With the Olympics coming up, though, those small reporters seemed to have gotten drowned out by people who were willing to pay more to get a spot, just because skating was one of the best known events to consumers in the United States. So by the third time Brittany was given the same question by a reporter who clearly had been assigned this and done nothing more than the very basic research, she wasn't in the mood for giving good sound byte clips, no matter how many lectures and workout drills it was going to earn her.

"What were you feeling when you finished the routine?" the reporter asked, looking lost without a page of stats and an in depth knowledge of things like scoring stats, rulebooks, and exciting plays.

Brittany just restrained herself from actually rolling her eyes and decided to give him the most honest answer she could think of. Leaning into towards his recorder, she met his eyes and said very carefully, "Sweaty."

Mike tried not to laugh and shifted his hip subtly into Brittany's as he took over. "Yeah, I mean, we put a lot of hard work into performing our absolute best and I think that was it. We're just glad that the judges agreed," Mike broke in, delivering something more along the lines of the answer that the reporter would actually be able to print.

The reporter nodded and looked down at the scribbled notes that he had made. Brittany could practically see in his eyes the question that was coming next and it made her want to sigh. "So, a lot of people seem to think that the two of you are a couple. Can you comment on that?"

It was one of Brittany's least favorite questions. She loved Mike. A lot. But there wasn't a drop of romantic or sexual love in her whole lake of love for Michael R. Chang Jr., which was an actual quote that she had given to a reporter once after they had won their intermediate national title a few years ago, though she had refrained from launching into a full explanation about dilution in large volumes and how not even a drop really meant something because she could dump thousands of gallons of romantic love into her bro-love lake for Mike Chang and it would still be just a bro-love lake.

Brittany got that it was a good story, them being paired together and falling in love and raising little ice skating babies by the broodful while winning medals left and right. She didn't even mind fans who hoped that they'd get together as long as they didn't get mad at them when it didn't happen. It just wasn't and wouldn't be true, and it was lazy reporting when there were probably easily ten quotes on the first page of "Brittany Pierce Mike Chang dating" results from their mouths which would let him know that they weren't together.

Well, lazy reporting deserved a lazy answer. "No, that would be illegal. Except maybe in Rhode Island. But this Massachusetts." Brittany's face was completely neutral, and it was totally worth the five hundred sit ups she was going to do if Shelby found out that she had been responding to questions this way. The reporter blinked slowly a couple of times and slowly turned to look at Mike.

Mike looked at Brittany, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "We're not a couple. Just friends." He answered.

The reporter nodded, forgoing any follow up, perhaps wisely sensing that Brittany's answers would only get more opaque as he continued down that line, and looked at his list of questions. "What are you feeling about your chances at the Olympics now?" he asked.

Brittany sighed.

* * *

Brittany found the room that Santana was in and pushed the door open, her guards still clacking loudly against her blades as she walked. Santana was on the floor, her legs stretched out to either side as she rested against the ground in between them. Brittany watched as Santana's expression went from adorably startled to even-cuter smiling. "Hey Britt," she said, propping herself up on her elbows a little bit, but not fully sitting up yet. She gestured to Brittany's bag sitting beside the bench and stretched herself back out flat.

"How are you so great?" Brittany asked, clacking over to the bench and throwing herself down so she could start untying her skates. She wrestled them off her feet, sighing as she wiggled her toes inside of her tights. She was pretty much used to wearing skates for long periods of time, but for some reason, wearing them to walk around always made her toes feel cramped and sweaty.

Brittany reached for her skates, pulling the hard plastic guards off the blades and tapping them against the edge of the bench to knock any dirt out of them, as well as whatever water was left over from melting off their skates. It wasn't strictly necessary, just something that she had started doing when she was seven or eight and started taking care of her skates on her own. She found the pale blue cloth in her bag and ran it over the blades a couple of times, wondering as she did what exactly made microcloth so much more absorbent than regular cloth and if it had anything to do with marketing hype and if really small creatures like fairies or archaea might use micro cloth too.

As she reached for the soft terry cloth guards - one purple, one pink - Brittany caught sight of Santana's amused expression from where she had propped up her head to watch. "What?" Brittany asked, glancing around, wondering if she'd maybe been using the wrong bag or something. But no, there was her name embroidered on the front, Brittany S. Pierce, all in a neat, script font.

"Nothing." Santana said, shaking her head and sitting up to draw her knees up to her chest. "I've just never seen anyone else manage to look so serious and so-" Santana tilted her head, "So funny all once while doing something as ordinary as drying skates." The way that she said it made it seem like maybe funny hadn't been the word on the tip of her tongue after all. Brittany studied Santana's expression for a moment, taking in the soft hints of pink in her cheeks and the way that her mouth was parted just a sliver. Her eyes were still sparkling. Briefly, Brittany tried to think of the last time that she hadn't see a spark in Santana's eyes, but she never figured it out because Santana let out a soft laugh and pushed herself standing.

"You're a dork," Brittany said, shaking her head as she fitted the cloth guards onto her blades and slipped them into the open pockets of her bag. The cloth and hard guards went back in as well, before Brittany located her sneakers and fleece jacket, which she pulled on over her costume.

"I learned it from you," Santana said, sticking her tongue out at Brittany, before setting herself up for a jump. Brittany realized that she had toed off her boots at some point, leaving her in bare feet on the mat spread on the floor. Santana stretched her arm out and tapped back with her left leg, jumping up and spinning twice in tight succession before landing back down. If she had been on the ice, it would have been an easy triple toe loop. There was no way that her toe pick wouldn't have stuck perfectly and she wouldn't have come down with that perfect easy, quiet landing.

Brittany, of course, clapped. Santana shook her head, but there was a grin hiding in the dimple at the corner of her mouth and an extra spring to the next jump. Brittany, making no attempt to hide her smile, clapped again. "Britt, you're going to make me fall," Santana said again, though the smile was still there.

"How am I going to make you fall?" Brittany protested. "They're going to clap for you out there."

"They don't make me laugh, though," Santana pointed out, swinging her arms. "Fine, if you're going to be in here, make yourself useful." She said shaking her head and walking over to the hook where her costume was hanging. "Help me into this."

"The confusing red one?" Brittany asked coming up behind Santana and looking as she unzipped the protective bag. Brittany nodded, seeing that it was. It wasn't so much that it was confusing, but that the three straps had a tendency of getting tangled as Santana tried to pull her arm in, and it always took Brittany a minute or two to get them all laying perfectly again.

Santana pulled the dress out and handed it to Brittany before pulling off her comfy jacket with a soft shiver. Brittany still wondered how exactly Santana had gotten so into skating if she got cold so easily, but she thought it was pretty cute so she never really asked. Brittany caught her lip gently between her teeth as Santana pulled her t-shirt off, the black cotton revealing bare skin, wonderfully tan, strong abs, and higher...

Brittany focused on making sure the perfectly aligned straps were straight on the hanger one more time. When she saw Santana's pants pushed down, revealing her tights, Brittany pulled the dress, shimmering softly in the light of the room they were in, off the hanger and into her hands, stooping to allow Santana to step into it properly. She brought it up Santana's legs, stepping behind her to keep the straps straight as Santana pulled the dress up. Brittany carefully smoothed the straps over Santana's bare shoulder and back, her fingers gliding over the skin underneath each of the three straps, making sure they were straight. Santana's skin was so smooth.

"Are they set?"

Santana's voice startled Brittany out of her trance. "Yeah, they're all set," she said, stepping back and letting Santana turn to face the room again. "Sometimes I wonder if it's more fun to have the pretty costumes or the fun costumes."

"Fun," Santana said with a decisive head shake. "Fun but classy, at least. Will wanted me to wear this purple one with this cut out like-" She traced a shape onto her side that would have bared much of her stomach.

Brittany shook her head. "I like this one, though," she said, reaching out to let her fingers trail up to Santana's shoulder, following the dark red material.

"Do you?" Santana asked with a shy smile, fingering the edge of her skirt as she looked up at Brittany.

"I do. It makes you look... even prettier," Brittany said, focusing on the center of Santana's eyes, marveling at how the brown there could be so deep and rich and alive with so many shades of colors at the same time. She watched with a breathless curve to the corner of her lips as a shade of red close to Santana's dress was echoed in her cheeks.

"I thought... it was the best choice. Even if it... it's... confusing," Santana murmured, slowly leaning closer to Brittany, her eyes flicking back and forth from Brittany's eyes to her lips. Brittany couldn't help but lick her lips and lean in as well.

The sound of the door handle turning was like a gunshot.

Brittany took a step to the side, narrowly avoiding crashing into Santana who apparently had the same idea as her. She hung the hanger back on the wall and tried to wipe the guilty and annoyed expression off her face as Santana straightened her own face.

"So, I thought we could go over the last few-" Will broke off, looking up from his clipboard, seeing that his skater wasn't alone. "Oh. Hi Brittany," he said with a nod.

"Britt just helped me get my costume on," Santana explained, tugging on the skirt once more, before clasping her hands behind her back. Brittany could see her left thumb and forefinger massaging the right one and she nodded dumbly.

"Oh, well, we're going to go over a few things now," Will said, pointing to his clip board, a dismissive tone in his voice.

"Aye, I'll just go change me togs," Brittany deadpanned, grabbing her back as she walked past Will, throwing a wink back at Santana, who smiled for a moment before settling back down on the bench, her shoulders tense, as Will sat beside her. The door closed and Brittany went to find a place to put on her regular clothes until it was closer to the time for Santana to skate.

* * *

"_Welcome back to NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships in Boston's own TD Garden building. I'm Rod Remington."_

"_And I'm Cassandra July."_

"_Weren't those opening ceremonies a few hours ago lovely? We're now deep into the fierce field of ladies' short programs. We've seen a lot of great performances today, as well as many that will be trying to make up these point losses in the long. Coming up, though, we have several competitors who are favored to come out of tonight as winners and move on to the Olympics in just a few weeks."_

"_Yes, there is a lot of pressure on these skaters. Now is not the time to choke."_

* * *

Santana's knee shook, a little too fast for the rhythm of the song playing through her earbuds. In reality, she wasn't listening to the song, though its familiar tune was soothing in her ears. She had listened to the same song, probably hundreds or thousands of times. Sometimes, while she was spread out on a pale blue comforter covered in tiny pink roses. Occasionally, in a car, blaring over the stereo. Even sometimes with only one earbud in her ear as she rode the T or sat on an airplane. However, most of the times that she had listened to this song and the others on the playlist were situations just like this. Standing in a rink full of people, her coat draped over her shoulders, stretched out and warmed up and trying to keep anything from getting into her head and messing her up, be that the crowd or something said to her five months ago in practice or anything else.

A hand on her shoulder made Santana jump and whirl around. She instantly relaxed when she saw Brittany standing there, and pulled the earbuds out of her ears. "Hi," she said with a soft grin. A moment ago, her heart had been thumping heavily in her chest. Now, it was fluttering.

"Hi," Brittany said back with a soft smile. She wrapped her hands gently around Santana's arms, just below her elbows and gave her a gentle squeeze. "How are you doing?" She asked, looking back and forth between Santana's eyes.

For a moment, Santana felt like she forgot to breathe. Though Brittany was now wearing sweatpants, sneakers, and her jacket, her eye makeup was still on and it made her eyes stand out even more. Santana had already lost herself many times, just by catching sight of that startlingly blue color, and when the effect was enhanced, well... After a moment, she realized that she was just staring and jolted a little. "Fine." She answered automatically. "I'm doing fine."

"You-" Brittany said, leaning in a little closer. Santana couldn't help but notice the way that the corner of her mouth was quirked, like she was holding back a smile. The angle of her lips gave it away and Santana wondered if anyone else would know, looking at it, "-are a shitty liar."

Brittany's unexpected swear pulled a laugh out of Santana. The answering grin, pink lips parting to show white teeth, made it clear that Brittany had been hoping for that result. "I'm a little nervous," Santana admitted, reaching out to tuck her hands into the front pockets of Brittany's jacket. "Will gave me a whole list of things to remember about this routine."

The look on Brittany's face made it quite clear that she was less than impressed with anything that Will might have told Santana before. "Why does he do that to you?" she asked quietly, with a soft shake of her head.

Santana's heart skipped a beat. She loved that Brittany knew her so well. Brittany knew that Santana wanted to do her best and that she spent all this time stuffing her head with corrections about every little thing - that was the reason why she choked. She knew that Santana's knowledge that she choked when she over thought things also made her choke. And she conveyed it all with just a little sentence. It made things so foggy for Santana, who never could be sure what she was with Brittany. Best friends knew each other really well. But sometimes...

"I've seen you practice. You're going to be amazing," Brittany assured her softly. Her thumbs moved in circles in the crook of Santana's elbows, and Santana felt the last of the tension slip out of her limbs.

For a long moment, she just looked up at Brittany. She had seen this face change a hundred thousand times over the years. Gone were the sweet chubby cheeks of four year old Brittany, replaced by lean, gorgeous cheekbones. The too big front teeth from middle school were now a flawless, radiant smile. Brittany had even become leaner since they had started high school. Still, she was still the same Brittany. Same eyes, full of spirit and life. Same joyful smile. Same little freckle just above her lip. Santana let out a shaky breath and leaned into Brittany, putting her arms around Brittany's waist. "You're my best friend," she mumbled into the collar of Brittany's jacket.

"Yeah." Brittany murmured back, crossing her arms over Santana's back, holding her tightly. "Me too."

For a moment, the noise of the crowd and music dimmed and Santana just inhaled the sweet smell of Brittany. She never had any words to describe it, but she had noticed it more and more the older that she got. They spent a lot of their time in a cold rink and it was kind of interesting how things that would usually have a strong smell seemed to be dulled or covered by the smell of the rink or the chill in the air. However, Santana could always catch that hint of Brittany that lingered wherever she was. Santana had breathed it in off pillows and jackets and the crook of Brittany's neck. It radiated from Brittany's hair and lingered in her t-shirts. It calmed Santana down.

Eventually, they pulled away and Brittany cupped Santana's chin gently. "Kick some ass," she told her, grinning for real. Santana couldn't help but grin back, saluting to Brittany. Brittany gave her arm one last squeeze and walked back through the door. Santana put her earbud back in. There was only one more routine before she had to be out on the ice. Feeling much more relaxed, she listened to the music in her ears, trying to block out the routine and anything that might undo what Brittany had just done.

* * *

"_Wow, that was impressive, Cassandra."_

"_It sure was, Rod. There is a reason why Quinn Fabray is the favorite to win tonight and that was it right there."_

"_She really has that classical, elegant element to her routines. It was very clean throughout. I would be incredibly surprised if anyone managed to beat that tonight."_

"_The best contender is probably up next. Santana Lopez, eighteen, out of Skating Club of Boston. She has been a long time rival of Fabray's and the competition between these two is fierce. And, as I've heard, can sometimes turn a little vicious as well. Ever since Lopez transitioned to a singles skater a few years ago, they have been struggling for that top slot."_

"_Santana has the potential to outscore Quinn, as we've seen, but Quinn gives a much more solid performance. Santana has enormous jumps and great flexibility, but she chokes."_

"_Exactly, Rod. It's something that really started happening after the split between Lopez and her former partner, Noah Puckerman. Of course, she still is a young skater. This is only her second season at the senior level, but in order to win one of those spots for the Olympics, Lopez is really going to have to nail these routines. It's enormous pressure and she hasn't always shown that she can handle that."_

* * *

Santana pushed off on the ice, gliding smoothly around the edge as she shook out her arms. She was trying to focus on the things that Brittany said, but the comments from her coach kept sneaking in. Santana knew that this competition was a big deal, and even bigger than the one last year. She knew how Will would feel if she messed this up. She knew how she would feel. She had to do well.

Clasping her hands together in front of her stomach, Santana rounded the corner of the rink, automatically checking up her body, looking for anything that needed to be adjusted or shaken out before she began. Her skates felt good. There were no twinges in her knee, where she had the occasional flare up of aches. Her stomach was a mass of knots, but that was nothing new for Santana. She rolled her shoulders as she rubbed the base of her right thumb, her blades making tracks in the nearly spotless ice. It seemed like she had stepped out onto the ice years ago and a moment ago all at once.

Finally, she heard the announcer call out her name and club. Santana forced a smile onto her face and glided to the logo at the center of the ice, waving to the audience as she did so. It had seemed so much smaller as a kid, sitting there. Like they were all part of this family or this experience or something. Santana still wasn't sure if that was just because she was young or because of who she had sitting next to her, all slurpie-dyed smiles and salty popcorn fingers laced with hers... Either way, standing out on the ice alone, facing a table of judges and a huge audience of people, it didn't feel so much like they were all in it together. Not yet at least. Santana had to prove herself first.

She took a deep breath and struck her pose.

The music started and Santana forced her smile into place, moving through the motions to the quiet trumpet of the beginning. At the first small swell of the music, she pushed off to skate backwards across the rink. The first thing was a flying sit spin. Santana leapt off the ice, bringing one leg up and out in front of her and landing so that she was crouched low. Her heart pounded in her throat already. Not from the exertion of one fairle simply spin, but out of the fear of disappointing the people in the stadium, her parents and abuela watching, and Will. Mostly, though, she worried about disappointing Brittany.

Already, Santana could hear in her head all of the things that she could be doing wrong. She wondered if her leg was pointed enough and if she was low enough to get the points that she would need. Her spin felt centered, spinning on the sweet spot under the ball of her foot, but had she miscounted the revolutions? Was she spinning fast enough to make it around enough times and still come out of it in the right spot for her music? Santana had been skating for just about fourteen years, but she never trusted herself in competition enough to let go of these questions. Even the best, most reassuring speech from Brittany couldn't seem to last for very long once she was on the ice.

Santana glided out of the spin, smile still stuck on, despite her insecurities. After the comments of last year, that had been one of Will's focuses, getting her to appear happy, even if she wasn't. It wasn't the most successful of goals. For whatever reason, Santana never connected with the music enough to emote like some of the other skaters that she saw. She clearly was just too closed off or emotionless or cold - both literally and figuratively- to be able to convey the joy and heartbreak and love and sorrow that she saw others do.

It wasn't that she hated skating. That couldn't be further from the truth. After all, there was a reason why Santana had devoted her life to the sport and it wasn't the pretty dresses or the crowds or even the fact that her best friend in the whole world had come to her, gliding across the surface of ice rather like this one. It was that Santana loved it more than anything else in the world. She loved working hard at something that she was good at. She loved the accomplishment that she felt when she landed a jump cleanly that she had been working on for months. The feeling in her stomach and heart, bursting out of her face in a smile that even she couldn't stop when she finished a routine without a single stumble was worth five a.m. conditioning practices, more blisters than she could count, freezing her ass off for hours on end, and anything else that had led up to it.

Santana let out a huff behind her smile and continued with the next part of her routine.

* * *

"_Well, it's still early in the routine, but we're already seeing some great things from Lopez."_

"_Certainly, Cassandra. A clean and tight sit spin followed by an enormous triple loop. The height that she gets on those jumps is just incredible and she makes it look so easy."_

"_That's right. Those huge jumps are definitely one of her trademarks. But you can see during this step sequence how it often seems like Lopez is just going through the motions. It isn't something that will hurt her as much in the short program, but free skate, you need that."_

"_Wow! Did you see that triple axel?! Santana is one of the few ladies doing them right now and she makes it look like nothing! Jumps like that will keep her in the running, for sure."_

* * *

Santana bit the inside of her lip as she landed her triple axel. It felt like a clean landing, but she was worried about her position in the air, if it was clean enough, if she had landed smoothly enough to get high execution marks from the judges, or if she'd get some deductions. Her triple axel had huge point values, definitely, but they only covered her deficits, as Will called them, if she got a lot of execution points for them. Otherwise, she could jump all she wanted and she would never be able to secure herself one of the spots to head to Sochi in a month.

As much as competitions stressed Santana out, that was the goal. Any other year, she'd be hoping for one of the four medals on their own merit, just to accomplish that. But it was an olympic year and she couldn't help but want her shot at that. Four years was a long time in the athletic world and there was no guarantee she'd get another shot. Even with three spots to the Olympics, it wouldn't be easy to grab one. She needed a huge short program score if she wanted to have enough points over all.

Santana wound up, stroking backwards powerfully, before stepping into the rotation of her spin, her body taunt and extended in a camel position. The spins and jumps were the times that she could let the smile off her face, to focus on doing the best she could without putting on some image. Her ears were focused on the music as she counted in her head until she could pull her leg down and in, extending it out in front of her as she sat into her second sit spin of the routine.

The crowd was a blur and so were the judges as she spun and spun. Santana could almost imagine that they weren't even there, that she was at their home rink across the city, skating for Brittany. With that easy picture in her mind, the bright brilliant smile of her best friend, Santana switched feet and drew her leg up straight in front of her. The increase in speed blurred the crowd even further, giving Santana just a moment to breathe in the middle of her routine.

As she held the position, her arms and stomach tense, keeping herself balanced over the sweet spot of her blade as the world rushed by in an indistinct blur, a piece of Santana's mind not devoted to keeping her time and her focus and her nerves slipped back to many years ago when she was first working on the flexibility to do spins like this. Brittany had always been naturally flexible, able to slide out into a split with hardly any effort at all. Santana had seen this as something else to work on, to catch up. And Brittany, being the best friend that anyone could help for, had spent hours with Santana, propped up in a split as they watched movies together or pressing on Santana's legs or back to get her to bend a little further. She didn't think many people knew it, but Brittany was the reason she was able to have the signature i-spin that she did now.

Santana heard the cue that told her to come out of the spin and she did so nearly automatically, gliding out, to finish the spin, before skating around the edge of the rink. She was nearly done. Only two more jumps and one more spin and she would maybe post enough points to put herself in a good place for the long program and avoid a long lecture meant to inspire and shame her at the same time.

Hearing the beat of the music and the vague noise of the crowd behind, Santana glided backwards, arms checking her rotation as she prepared for the jump. At the right moment in the music and when she felt it in her bones, she sprung off the ice, using her toe pick to vault herself up. She made three quick revolutions before touching back down again. Almost instantly, Santana reached her other foot behind, tapping it down into the ice to push herself up again, completing three more quick turns.

On the way down, the back of her blade got caught for moment, somehow, as she uncrossed her legs, leaving her landing shaky, though she managed to hold it. The smile was gone off Santana's face, a worried scowl in its place. The short was supposed to be her crowning glory, to make up for her problems in the long. There was no way that she was going to make it onto the podium, much less on a plane to Russia if she made stupid mistakes like that. Santana gritted her teeth as she wound up for her final spin. Jumps were supposed to be one of her trademarks, something that she was good at and didn't need to worry about.

Of course, there was nothing in any routine that Santana didn't worry about, especially when the stakes were so high. But of all the things, a silly triple toe loop, even in sequence, shouldn't have been any problem for Santana and there she was looking at a significant downgrade in quality. It might not cost her ton in points, but, really, she was fighting for very few spots and the competition would be fierce. Who knew how little of a difference there would be between one place and the next. Messing up, even in a small way, now was a good way to guarantee she'd spend the next winter doing small time shows and drilling endlessly.

As her brain whirred, Santana's muscles clicked into play and she spun, leaning backwards gracefully, her body centered and her spin fast. As the music faded away, Santana pulled out of the spin and struck her final pose.

The crowd cheered. Santana couldn't tell if it was particularly loud or not, but she smiled and waved anyway, dipping her head as she bent at the knee for each of the sides of the huge stadium. Though she wasn't exactly beaming, the cheers did remind her that there were several things that, at least to the relatively untrained eyes around her, looked quite good, and that was probably something to be celebrated.

As she bowed, Santana avoided looking towards one particular part of the stadium. Although, of course, a small part of her worried about what she might see on that face that she knew so well, most of her just wanted to save that for last, so that she could treasure every inch of that expression and tuck it away in her heart slowly and completely, without interruption. Finally, she was able to exit towards the kiss and cry and there was no avoiding where her eyes went.

Somehow, it was still amazing that that smile could be seen so clearly from so far away.

Santana smiled, an automatic response that she had long since stopped questioning. Things were confusing enough without Santana examining every little reaction that she had to Brittany. None of that stopped her from skating over and stepping off the ice, her smile turning a bit shy. Brittany didn't mind at all and pulled Santana into a hug. Santana felt her tense muscles relax as she took in Brittany's scent again. "You were wonderful," Brittany murmured in her ear. Santana didn't comment, but she felt a calmness spread through her bones as she tucked her nose into Brittany's collar. The moment stretched on, just Santana, Brittany, and their embrace.

Will's hand on Santana's arm made her jump, and the sound of the crowd came back in a wave, washing over Santana and making her drop her arms from around Brittany. Will wrapped his arms around her and Santana lifted hers to almost hover around his waist. She waited, hearing the sounds of the crowd, talking and shuffling, as he patted her back and then let her go. "We'll talk about it later," he told her with a nod, heading for the kiss and cry to wait for Santana's scores.

Brittany handed Santana her guards, holding her hand to help Santana keep her balance as she pulled them on. Before Santana could follow Will, Brittany squeezed her hand. Santana looked up into Brittany's eyes, nearly level with her own and relaxed into an easy smile again. "You did wonderful," Brittany repeated and Santana couldn't help the shiver that ran through her at the sincerity of her words.

As much as Santana wanted to linger beside Brittany for a moment longer, she knew that she had to go up and sit in the booth to get her scores, so she squeezed back and hurried up to the bench to perch lightly beside Will. She rattled off an automatic thanks to her family and her friends at the rink, though her mind was on her performance. She had landed her triple axel, and she didn't think there was any way that could be downgraded to a double, but she just didn't know how it had gone. Were the mistakes that stood out in her mind, the toes that weren't pointed and the wobbles and shallow edges, all real or were they made up? Santana didn't know.

She glanced to the side and caught sight of Brittany. For a moment, she just looked at the features of her best friend. Brittany was so beautiful and Santana's eyes traced the graceful curve of her jaw and neck, the way that her hair curled out of the ponytail, sticking up a little in the way that it did after her routine got it just a bit sweaty. Santana could practically smell the sweet, Brittany scent that she knew would be lingering there. For a moment, she focused on bright blue eyes, studying them like she didn't already know them by heart, as if she hadn't memorized each shade and tint to her iris and every expression that they made over the past fifteen years.

Santana started for a moment as Brittany's eyes focused on her. But, far from being weirded out that Santana had been staring, Brittany just grinned and sent Santana a thumbs up. Santana may have returned the smile if she had not suddenly heard the announcer over the noise of the crowd. Her eyes went to the board where her scores would appear.

"For the short program, Santana Lopez has scored 65.1 points. She is in second place." Santana's heart sunk in her chest. Sixty-five points was really not a bad place to be, especially with a long term goal of wanting to go to the Olympics. In order to get there, she wouldn't need to win, she would just need to place in the top three i order to prove she should have that spot. However, the short program was supposed to be her forte and if she couldn't even beat Quinn Fabray out for that spot in her better program, she definitely wouldn't be able to do it in the free skate.

With just a look at Will, Santana could already tell that he was thinking the same thing - there was no way that she was going to win this unless she could somehow stumble upon a perfect performance tomorrow.

Santana turned and looked the other way. Brittany's grin was, if anything, brighter. Santana felt her own smile grow again, watching her very best friend hop a little bit in excitement.

* * *

"_And that's it for Ladies' Short Program. Quinn Fabray in first, Santana Lopez in second, and Marissa Gardner in third. It's shaping up to be a fierce fight for those podium spots, isn't it Cassandra?"_

"_You bet, Rod. Lopez delivered a solid performance tonight with some graceful spins and great height on those jumps. Fabray is going to have to fight to keep that gold in her hand."_

"_As long as Santana can bring that emotion to her free skate, you're absolute right. Textbook perfection in her spins and jumps-"_

"_Absolutely, but there's a robotic sense to her. Quinn Fabray is more of a whole package skater, and that might be enough to take that top spot from Lopez, no matter how high she jumps."_

"_You'll just have to tune back in to see who comes out on top. Ladies' Freeskate will be Saturday. In the meantime, be sure to catch Men's Short Program, tomorrow at eight. I'm Rod Remington."_

"_And I'm Cassandra July."_

"_Thanks for watching with us this evening for NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships. Goodnight."_


	2. The Lost Cause

Santana let out a frustrated grunt as she landed out of her toe loop with two feet. She had gotten up very early to come to this practice session. After a few stretches and running drills for twenty minutes, Santana was warm and ready to practice. She had messed up her triple lutz-triple toe in her short program and she needed to nail that sort of thing if she hoped to make it anywhere near the podium, which she wanted fiercely. Santana wanted it because she had been working towards international competition at this level since she was about six and actually understood that the skating practices and competitions that she already loved could lead somewhere. Santana just wanted to be really good at something.

It didn't hurt that her best friend in the world would almost certainly be going to the Olympics this year.

After Brittany and Mike's performance last night, the way that they had come out on top of Gunderson and Cooper, who had been strong favorites to win, and the quality of their free skate program that Santana had watched them rehearse many times already, Santana had little doubt that Brittany would be on that plane to Sochi. She wanted to go for her own merit and accomplishments, of course, but Santana would love the chance to go with the person who meant the most in the world to her. They had done pretty much everything together in skating and she hated the thought that she might miss this because of some stupid mistakes in moves that she should be able to do by now.

There was, of course, always next time, but four years was a very long time away. There was no way for Santana to know what she would look like as a skater in four years, if she would have the skills to go to the Olympics, if she would be good enough to be a contender there, or if she would be washed up or injured by that time. She might only be nineteen at the moment, but people had been sidelined a lot earlier.

And not everyone reached the top of the field. People tapered out along the way. Even those who committed as much time as they could might never get to even the first level of true competition as novice skaters. After all, from thousands of skaters, only twenty-two or so skaters might go into the national competition where she was now. And only, at most, the top three would move on to represent Team USA in the important international competitions. Those who won were even rarer.

Still, that was where Santana wanted to be. And she wanted it so bad, that she was up at four-thirty so she could get to the rink by five and be drilling herself on a jump combination that she had had for three years and merely stumbled out of during an intense pressure situation. She wanted to prove to everyone that she could do it, that she deserved the shot to be where she wanted to be and to accomplish the things she wanted to accomplish.

With another frustrated sigh, Santana stroked across the ice, shaking out her arms again and trying to clear her head so that she could land this jump and prove to herself that she would be okay in her free skate. She flipped around backwards and started her entrance, gliding backwards across the ice. She leaned deeply into the outside edge of her left skate and reached back with her right foot, driving her toe pick down into the ice to lift herself off. Santana tightened her body into the right position for the air, legs crossed over each other, her arms folded tightly against her chest for the rotations in the air. She unfurled as she landed, her legs uncrossing and her arms coming out to check the rotation and control it to keep herself steady on her right edge. Despite a slight waver, Santana reached back again, with her left foot this time, repeating the same picking motion to push herself in the air for a triple toe loop. Her pick slid a little as she tried to vault up and she found herself unable to get to a good landing position before her legs were back on the ice, knocking her over onto her butt.

Santana let out a frustrated cry and flopped back onto the cold surface of the ice. She lay there for a moment, just listening to the hum of the lights and the sounds of the refrigeration system.

"I knew you'd be here." Despite being completely unexpected, the voice didn't startle Santana at all. She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled to see Brittany standing at the entrance to the rink. "I thought if I got up early enough I'd be able to beat you here, but clearly you got up at an ungodly hour."

"I need to practice," Santana offered lamely, pushing herself to her feet and skating over slowly to where Brittany stood. Even in the dim lights of the half lit rink, Brittany's blue eyes shone. Santana found herself dazzled for a moment. She wasn't sure if it was a reason or an excuse when she was talking to Brittany. Did she really need to be up at four in the morning in order to practice? Would a good night's sleep be more beneficial? The answer was probably, but if Santana couldn't get herself to sleep in that far, was it better to worry in bed or to work out her problems at the rink?

Brittany shook her head very gently and murmured, "You're just not using the right brain." She reached out and took Santana's hands, giving them a gentle squeeze before pushing backwards with their joined hands. Santana glided backwards away from Brittany. "Do it again," she requested, stepping out onto the ice as well.

Santana nodded and took off down the ice. Brittany had again given her something to think about and puzzle out and she had no idea where to start. Most of the time, when people talked about their other brain, they meant their junk, something that Santana didn't have. Besides, if she did, it wouldn't exactly help her at all with a triple lutz-triple toe combination. Santana's metaphoric dick would be all about one thing and that thing was Brittany. While Brittany had a lot to do with skating and Santana's love for it, it wasn't the sort of thing that would help her focus on what she was doing wrong and how to fix it.

While all of this was running through her head, Santana had crossed the rink and begun to do her crossovers back, ending in a straight line back towards one of the corners. With her brain occupied, Santana leaned instinctively into her outer edge, swinging her leg down to drive her right toe pick into the ice, vaulting her up for three smooth rotations. Santana landed on an easy right back edge, gliding along the outside of her blade, before snapping her left toe down into the ice, pushing herself up and around for three more revolutions. As she came down on her right edge again, Santana could feel how easy and controlled the whole thing had been, from the opening edge right down to the final landing position, and things finally clicked about what Brittany had meant.

Santana had been doing a triple lutz-triple toe for at least three years at this point. It was a hard jump, but she had done the work and drilled it over and over again. While she couldn't say that she had perfect consistency, Santana knew what the combination felt like when it was right. She had muscle memory. That was her other brain.

With a shy smile on her face, Santana skated over to Brittany, who was grinning at her and leaning against the boards. "See?" she said as Santana neared her.

"Yeah. You're kind of a genius. Wanna be my coach?" Santana said, biting her lip and looking up through her eyelashes. It wasn't the first time that Santana had joked about that, but it was hard to not want it. Brittany always seemed to understand what Santana needed and wanted, even when Santana didn't know herself. She always fixed whatever was next on the long list of things that were wrong with Santana.

Brittany laughed, soft and soothing, and stepped away from the barrier. "You don't want me to be your coach, honey," she said, taking Santana's hands and pushing off, skating backwards and pulling Santana with her. Santana was going to argue that she definitely wanted Brittany to be the one to make up her routines and tell her what was wrong and fix it and reassure her before competitions and everything else that Will was supposed to do but never did. But, Brittany pulling her around the rink started a smile on her face, and before she could speak up, Brittany was talking again. "Besides, if I was your coach, you'd have to complain to Will every time I annoyed you."

Santana caught her toe pick against the ice at the sudden image of that and laughed as Brittany steadied her. "Okay," she said, letting go of Brittany's left hand to press against her chest, trying to stop herself from laughing so hard that she made herself look even more foolish by falling. A few steadying breaths later, Santana still couldn't stop the grin on her face, but she thought that probably had to do with the fact that she was with Brittany more than anything else.

Before she could get too distracted by Brittany's eyes again, Santana pushed off onto her left foot, curving slightly on the inside edge of her foot. She spun around on that foot, ending up backwards on the outside edge of her blade, still holding Brittany's right hand with her left one. The simple three turn had left them next to each other and Santana gave Brittany's hand a gentle tug as she crossed her left foot over her right, pulling them backwards faster and starting them around the end of rink.

It wasn't like it was a difficult thing for either one of them to do. After all, both Brittany and Santana had been skating for fifteen years. Back crossovers were nothing new at all. Even the handhold and the unison weren't new things. Santana could still remember sitting at her mother's feet, having her hair brushed and braided, as they watched the skating at the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake City. Though she hadn't known or understood the scandal that had surrounded the pairs competition, she had loved that event in particular and had started talking about going into pairs shortly after that. Brittany, too, had loved the event. They spent hours talking about the lifts and the throws and the partnership of the skaters, dreaming what it might feel like to be thrown like that.

A few years later, her coaches had allowed her to pair up with Brittany so that they could both learn the basics of skating in a pair. They had won several competitions around their rink skating together until it became clear that they both needed to really commit to skating, because they were both talented and dedicated. That was when they moved to Boston and were paired up with partners they could really compete with. But it was always easy to remember what it was like to skate, hand in hand with Brittany, their legs moving together, parts of the same machine.

Santana could feel her cheeks aching as she continued to skate with Brittany, curving around the end of the ice and then working their way back up in wide half circles across the ice. The tension on her hand, the slightest tug to the left or right, told Santana exactly when Brittany wanted to change the direction of their curve, and she listened without thought or hesitation.

At the end of the rink that they had started from, Brittany slowed down and Santana with her, the sides of their blades making a soft shushing sound as they scraped across the ice. "See," she murmured when they had stopped, "Just use your other brain, and you'll be alright."

Santana nodded. "Thank you, Britt." It hadn't escaped her attention that Brittany was still holding on to her hand.

"I mean it," Brittany insisted softly, touching Santana under the chin. Her gloves were surprisingly soft, though Santana knew it was from years of use, wearing all of the rough or stiff spots out of them, so much so that there was a little hole in the right pinky where Brittany's skin peeked through. Santana tore her eyes away from Brittany's gloves and lost herself in Brittany's eyes. "You are so great, honey. You're going to be amazing out there. You just have to believe it and it'll happen. And even if you don't nail everything, you're still great. Even if you don't nail anything."

There was something of a lump in Santana's throat that she had difficulty swallowing around as she heard those words. Her best friend was one of the few people in the world whose good opinion she needed. She couldn't bear to disappoint Brittany, and sometimes it was hard to remember that Brittany believed in her a lot more than Santana knew she deserved. She wanted to do her best. She wanted to win, and she wanted to go to the Olympics. But if she could just make Brittany proud...

That might be good enough.

Santana pushed forward, her toe pick making an ugly scraping sound that would have been jarring any other time. At this second though, she just wanted to wrap her arms around Brittany and hold her for a moment. Brittany had been her best friend for so long, but that relationship had only become stronger, even as parts of it became murkier. Even now it was hard to put an exact label on what they were and Santana, too afraid of disappointment, wasn't in a hurry to start that conversation.

Still, it would be all too easy to stand on her toes and press her lips against Brittany's at this moment. That was something that they didn't really do here. Ever. Kisses were secrets, pressed in the shadows of Brittany's apartment, smearing show lipstick or interrupted by the soft, cold drip of shower water off the ends of their hair. Santana spent many nights at Brittany's apartment. It was closer to the rink than her parents' house, so after grueling practices, it was easier to drag herself to Brittany's than it was to try to drive home.

And though Santana loved her parents both more than she could say, it was more fun to go to Brittany's. Brittany's fridge was always stocked with every kind of fruit or vegetable that Santana could think of. They made smoothies and watched dumb movies from when they were kids. Santana would sit on the side of the couch, and Brittany would lay out across it, her head resting on Santana's knee. They would go to bed early, wearing t-shirts from competitions that they both had been to, not even sure whose was whose anymore. Under the heavy press of Brittany's soft blankets, they would whisper about silly things from their day and the stones of fear weighing down their hearts.

Sometimes, they would kiss, their lips pressing against each other, almost accidentally at first. Then, deeper, longer. Santana felt like she was drowning in nothing but Brittany and the dark of the room.

Sometimes, their kisses would taper off, growing slow and sloppy as exhaustion won out and they fell asleep, limbs tangled around each other.

Sometimes, even sleep couldn't distract them from each other. Those nights, neither one of them would sleep in competition t-shirts.

No matter what, Santana didn't know how to draw their special thing into the daylight. A lot of things looked different at night, and the morning sunshine didn't always paint a better picture. The moment passed, and Santana finally let go of Brittany. She scraped the side of her blade gently against the ice. Everything in her head and heart was a little mixed up at the moment, and she was helpless for any words to say next.

But Brittany was always there and always knew. "What do you want to work on next?" Brittany's voice was soft, like she was speaking to a baby animal that could startle if spoken to loudly.

Santana lifted her eyes from the glassy surface of the ice, still with large patches of untouched surface, despite forty minutes of practice on her part. Brittany's words helped remind her that she had things to think about outside of the confusing nature of her relationship with her best friend. After all, there was a pretty important competition happening in a while, and if Santana didn't start thinking straight, she wouldn't be on that plane to Sochi with Brittany. It would be all too easy to let second place slip out of her hands.

"Are you doing the triple axel in your long program, too?" Brittany added helpfully.

Santana shook her head. "Will doesn't think I should risk it," she said. Brittany pursed her lips but didn't say anything. It was one of the things that her best friend and her coach seemed to disagree on the most, what was or wasn't a risk when it came to the elements of her skating programs. Still, she understood where Will was coming from. The free skate was much longer and Santana needed to have strength in her legs for the additional jumps, spins, and footwork. A triple axel might result in a fall on that element if it was too late in her program or cause a fall by making her too tired to complete something else later on.

"Why don't you show me the complicated lutz, the one from the spiral," Brittany suggested, gliding backwards to lean against the boards.

Santana smiled at the thought. It was one of her favorite single jumps because it was challenging, but she could do it. The spiral beforehand was one that required a lot of flexibility.

Santana started the jump off gliding across the rink, her leg well up behind her. As she came close to the end, she turned her body around so she was now gliding backwards and, without ever touching down beforehand, performed a triple lutz jump, bringing the leg that was way up in the air down to pick into the ice and throw her up for the three spins that completed the jump.

With an eager nod, Santana skated across the ice, building up the speed necessary for the jump.

* * *

They were still at it an hour and a half later when Will came. Neither wanted to wear themselves out before the competition, so they had practiced a few of the things that they were feeling shaky on, running through jumping passes and spins, correcting steps and ironing out timing and expression. Taking turns kept them from getting too tired or too cold. Either could spell disaster, the former with a sloppy and tired performance that night when it mattered, the latter with an injury only hours before the competition.

To keep themselves warm without burning too much energy, Brittany and Santana had taken to trying to remember the pattern dances that they had learned as children when they were skating in Ohio.

"I swear, it's left, right, left, right, mohawk, step, step, back swing roll." Brittany was saying, performing a miniature version of the steps as she spoke.

"No, no." Santana insisted, "It has to be mohawk, back swing roll," She turned her foot, spraying snow as she stopped, looking down at the pattern she had been making on the ice. "Right?" Her tone was less certain. "What's the coun-?" Santana broke off as she looked up to see Will at the door to the rink, looking impatiently at his watch already.

"Brittany, Santana has practice," he said, his tone tight and scolding, as he stepped on to the ice and made a motion towards the door with his clipboard.

Santana felt her heart sink. Practicing with Brittany was fun and easy, and she never stressed about stumbles that she made. In fact, if she two-footed a jump or landed flat on her ass, then Brittany would just laugh, which would make Santana laugh. Then, Brittany would give Santana a slap on the ass (or the back if she had just landed hard on the ice) and send her off to do it again, and Santana would nail it. With Will, a hundred corrections ran through her head about every movement she made, trying to put together all of the things that he had changed and added and subtracted and moved around up to the last minute. She had drawer of medals that she had gotten being Will's student. He was a good coach. But he didn't always make Santana feel good.

Brittany didn't argue, though. She squeezed Santana's hand, flexed her arm muscles with a wink, and skated off, grabbing her guards off the boards as she hopped through the door. Santana assumed she was going to go stretch or nap or something until Mike got to the rink.

For a moment, Santana desperately wished she could go with Brittany. They could find some little corner of the rink in one of the offices on the third floor or a back hallway, tuck up together, and snooze for a while. Santana could watch the adorable way that Brittany's lips pouched out just a little as she relaxed into sleep. Even without the last little bit of her bright red pirate lip stick still darkening her lips a hint, they looked so pink and... kissable.

"Okay," Will said, the snap of the clipboard as he pulled his marker out from under the clasp, startling Santana, pulling her eyes from the door that Brittany had disappeared through, back to himself. "I know how to rescue your free skate so that we can get enough points to get you on that podium." He scribbled a word across the dry-erase surface, making a broad stroke underneath. Santana wondered what it could possibly be that would help her with only one word written on that clipboard. Will proudly capped the marker, and then turned the board around to show Santana. "We just need to think 'flight'!"

It was all Santana could do to keep from rolling her eyes.

* * *

_"Welcome back to NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships. I'm Rod Remington and with me tonight is Cassandra July. We're in the TD Garden in the lovely town of Boston and it is hot on the ice today. Coming up in about thirty minutes, we'll have the start of ice dancing, and later on this evening, the ladies will battle for their spots on the podium and the team. But right now, we're finishing up the last group of pairs skating."_

_"Yes, Rod, we've seen some great competitors tonight, but this is going to be where things kick it up a notch. In this group are Blaine Anderson and Tina Cohen-Chang, currently in fourth, and Jordan Stern and Bobby Surette, in third. They've had a rough season. Jordan was hurt badly back in August, but they seem to have pulled it together and be in good shape tonight."_

_"Definitely. We'll also see Missy Gunderson and Scott Cooper. They're the reigning champions and I really don't think they expect to be in second going into the free skate."_

_"Absolutely not. However, this team, Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang, they came out of nowhere, really, with a dynamite short program. They're currently in first and, I'm sure, hoping to hold that position."_

* * *

"It's going to be a real fight, that's for sure."

"Will the following skaters please take the ice: Jordan Stern and Bobby Surette, Blaine Anderson and Tina Cohen-Chang, Missy Gunderson and Scott Cooper, and Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang."

Brittany grinned as the crowd roared at her name. There was definitely something special about being on Boston ice when you were from Boston to begin with, and the crowd was not quiet about their support. Brittany waved to a section of fans holding signs with 'PIERCE AND CHANG' in big letters and grinned at the cheer that rose from that section.

No matter what happened in a little bit, this had been fun. Skating in the same arena where the professional basketball and hockey games were, skating in front of their hometown audience, doing so well yesterday, those were all irreplaceable memories that Brittany was thrilled to have made.

She finished a lap around the ice for herself and looked for Mike. The bright orange of his vest stood out starkly against the white of the ice and made him easy to spot. With a grin, Brittany sped up to catch him, sliding her hand into his so they could stroke together for a moment, falling into synch with their movements.

"Start with the throw loop?" Mike asked with a grin.

Brittany could see in his easy smile that he loved this as much as she did. Brittany nodded and picked up her speed a little, checking to make sure none of the other pairs were in their way. Mike slipped behind her back, his right hand on her waist. Brittany held out her left hand to the side of her body and Mike took it.

Together, they stepped from the forward inside edge of their right feet to the backwards inside edge of their left, doing a mohawk to get them set up for the throw. Brittany stepped back onto her right foot and crossed her left over while Mike bent his knees. They both felt the timing as Mike unfurled as Brittany jumped, tossing her high in the air to spin three times before landing. Brittany immediately put out her arms and free leg, stopping her rotation and giving her that smooth landing on the ice.

Brittany pumped her fist a little bit and looked to Mike to see what they might like to work on next. Six minutes could fly by, though Brittany was already loving the feeling of this ice.

"Spin?" She suggested when they got close again.

If everything was going well with lifts and throws, it would be better to spare Mike the trouble of lifting her again so soon. Brittany knew that, compared to a lot of the other pairs competitors, she was almost too tall. Her height meant that she had more muscles and more weight for Mike to throw around, and between the lifts and the twists and the throw jumps and even the death spirals, it was a lot of him lifting her. As a result, neither really liked to do too many of those types of elements before they did a long program. Going last gave them a little more time to recover, but it was better to get a feel of the ice in other ways if they were feeling good about the lifting elements.

Besides, Brittany really liked how the orange and black of Mike's costume popped against the blue and yellow of hers.

It had been surprising to Brittany that Shelby had gone with her idea for this long program. She would have thought that their coach would have pushed for a much more mature and emotional piece. She seemed to think, however, that this routine could play to their strengths and the variety of emotions that came naturally with a soundtrack would serve them well enough. The costumes were gorgeous, subtle enough to be sophisticated but definitely very them.

And if Brittany couldn't be herself when she skated, she didn't know that she would want to do it anymore. It was one thing to play a character or portray the emotions of a piece. It was another to try to skate as though she were a completely different skater. Brittany didn't think she'd ever be able to be a really emotional skater, but as long as Shelby let her and Mike do pieces like this, half fun and half sport, she thought they'd do alright.

Mike and Brittany did their crossovers, winding up by stepping onto a back outside edge and then forward into the spin. With Mike's hands firmly on her waist, both crouched down. Mike extended his free leg in front of him, and Brittany brought hers back as she leaned away, curving in a layback position. She counted the rotations in her head, keeping her stomach tight to keep her from tipping over and rising against the rotational force as Mike's hand pulled up at her waist. They leaned into a camel position, free legs together and pointed away from them, torsos parallel to the ice. Once they hit enough rotations in that position, they stepped their free feet onto the ice, changing the foot they were spinning on and crouching again into a broken leg variation on the sit spin. Brittany thought that with their free legs trailing out to the side, just above the ice, as they spun, it looked a bit like an octopus, incredibly relevant to their free skate music.

The pull of Mike's hand on her elbow rose her out of the spin and she glided backwards with him, completing the spin. "Nice," Mike said, an easy smile on his face. Everything about the ice and the crowd and how they were skating together felt right tonight. Brittany didn't know if they'd win. She didn't know if they'd make into the two spots that strongly qualified them for the Olympics or if they'd even be on the podium, despite the USFSA's tradition of awarding a fourth place pewter medal. But she felt confident, almost certain, that they were going to do their best, for sure.

"Let's do a lift," Brittany said, skating with Mike to keep their heart rates going during the warm up. "Which one do you want to do?"

* * *

_"Wow! Cassandra, listen to that crowd! That was an absolutely electric program from Missy and Scott."_

_"They've certainly put their challenge up to Pierce and Chang, letting them know if they want the title, they're going to have to come and take it."_

_"I think this freeskate really exemplified who they are as a pair. You can see in the replay, they have such unity on these single elements, the side-by-side spins and jumps, the foot work. The lifts look easy and the height of those throws..."_

_"They posted a big score: 141.72, which was even a few points off their personal best. Combined, they have a score of 203.24. Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang are going to have to skate clean after that."_

_"Cassandra, you know, you've been in this position yourself, what are your nerves like at a moment like this? Last to go, needing a big score and a clean program to win or to even medal. What is that like?"_

_"One of the hardest, scariest moments I've ever felt, Rod. You can't imagine the pressure they're feeling at this moment."_

* * *

Brittany rocked up on her toe picks, listening to the last words from Shelby. She couldn't keep still. She knew that this was a big moment - probably the biggest moment of her skating career. The next five minutes or so would determine if they'd get to have a medal or go to the Olympics or any of their other competitions that would come up over the next year, like Four Continents or Worlds or even the Grand Prix Series next fall. They had to do well.

But it wasn't nerves that were making Brittany antsy. She felt so ready and so excited. Even the little hum of nervousness behind her bellybutton couldn't stand up to the bursting of excitement, joy, and anticipation that she felt. Finally, Shelby was done, and Brittany and Mike turned away from the boards just as the announcer came over the loud speaker.

"And now, from the Skating Club of Boston, Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang."

The crowd roared and Brittany smiled, dropping Mike's hand for a moment to wave with both hands to the audience.

They stopped at the center of the ice and took their starting pose. Brittany hid her face in her elbow, her free hand stretched towards Mike as she bent her knee and extended her other leg out, crossing it behind her bent leg. Mike outstretched the hand nearest her so their fingers were nearly touching and lifted his other hand up. Then, they stopped, waiting for the music to begin.

The moment that it did, a smile spread across Brittany's face. Her heartbeat fell into rhythm with the music and she felt at peace. As the first few trickling notes began, Brittany brought her head up, her smile growing at the glimpses of the audience and judges. She pushed off, gliding around Mike, who caught her hand as she came back around, lifting her to her feet for a quick twirl, before taking off on their introductory steps across the rink. Their first element was the throw triple loop that they had practiced in their warm up.

In synch, they stepped together, performing crossovers, crossbacks, and turns across the ice. Mike's hands found her waist perfectly on cue, and Brittany let herself sink into the routine, crossing her leg and bending with Mike before springing off the ice. She locked herself tightly into the proper body position in the air: left leg tucked over right, arms tight against her chest and slightly to the left, everything straight in the air. She could feel how she soared over the ice before unraveling as she landed, bringing her arms and leg out and up, checking her rotation to keep her from spinning out of control.

Somehow, it felt better than the one that they had done in warm up.

There wasn't time to stop and celebrate because the program didn't stop for that and it would break her character, loosely constructed as it was, so Brittany joined hands with Mike. He did a mohawk in front of her, so that they were facing each other. For a moment, waiting for their beat, Brittany and Mike just grinned at each other, and then Mike pushed upward as Brittany jumped, pressing her up over his head. Brittany held her legs out in a split and shifted her weight over to her left hand, reaching behind her with her right hand and lifting her left leg to catch her blade behind her back. Mike started to spin, two and a half times around and Brittany almost laughed at the bubbly feeling that flew through her as the rink whirled by.

Mike set her down and they both extended their free legs behind them before taking off across the ice again.

* * *

_"That's one of the things that make this team such a joy to watch, Rod. They're so impeccably on time with the music, no matter how big the jump or small the step."_

_"Absolutely right. They might not have the emotions completely down yet, but they have that timing, that rhythm, that sense of music that's so difficult to teach."_

_"Oh, there they go again! Another throw, perfectly on time with the music. It really builds your excitement for the piece, and the audience is loving it. It doesn't hurt that they've nailed the landings on everything they've tried today."_

* * *

Brittany stepped onto her left foot, extending her leg behind her so that her body was parallel to the ice in a camel spin. Mike was only a few feet away, doing the same thing, his arms locked behind his back, just as hers were. When they had first started spinning together, it had been difficult to adjust their rates so that they spun at the same time. Brittany always seemed to whip around a little harder than Mike and would get ahead of him in position and eventually revolutions.

In time, they had become more consistent and in synch when it came to these spins, which was a particularly good thing when they were in positions like the camel spin where it was very easy to tell which way they were facing and if one or the other was off.

"Next!" Mike called from beside her, and Brittany pulled her leg down and in, extending it in front of her as she crouched into a sit spin. She had been prepared for the change, thanks to the cue in their music and the fact that she had been counting the revolutions as well, making sure they got enough in each position. They needed to get the proper levels of difficulty if they wanted to keep up their score, which, for Brittany, mostly meant letting herself relax into the spin and not jump the change. It was the reason why Mike was the one who called out for it.

"Next!" Mike said again, and they stood and brought their free legs up and in front of them. Mike was flexible, even for a male skater, but Brittany had to be careful not to bring her leg too high so that they could still match in shape and speed. Finally, they hit the end of their spin and glided out together.

Their footwork carried them across the rink. As they approached the other end, Brittany lifted her leg into a spiral and let Mike pull her around the curve. As he reached back with his free leg, Brittany rose from the spiral and let herself come forward, sliding out until her body was parallel to the ice. Mike had obviously locked his free foot's toe pick into the ice, because they began to rotate. Brittany arched back, feeling the coolness of the ice as she glided across it.

Brittany loved death spirals because it was one of the things that truly looked particularly impressive because of her height. Lifts sometimes worked out that way, depending on if her legs were up or down. Throws, twists, and jumps often suffered because of it. But death spirals, with Brittany's full length laid out, gliding around inches from the ice, looked amazing.

As she glided around the surface of the ice, Brittany was surprised at how genuinely relaxed she felt. She, of course, always fought for a good program, no matter if it was practice or performance, but this was honestly probably the most important program of her entire life. If they performed well, they could be on a plane to Russia next month to compete in the Olympics. If they performed flawlessly, they had the strong chance of standing on top of the podium. If they made mistakes, any or all of that could be taken away. It was a lot of pressure.

And yet, Brittany didn't feel it. What Brittany was feeling was the joy and energy that came with nailing everything so far and the excitement of a hometown crowd, knowing that all of the people she trained with or caught sight of taking the ice were there, that her family was all up in the seats somewhere, probably waving signs obnoxiously large enough to annoy the people in the row behind them. Brittany could picture the proud and breathless look that Santana had on her face whenever Brittany and Mike were crushing a routine, and Brittany knew that that was out there too.

All of that outweighed the risks for Brittany. If something went wrong, if they didn't make the podium this year, they'd try again next year. If they missed out on the Olympics, four years weren't honestly that far away and there were plenty of other amazing competitions in the meantime. When Brittany was little, she had always dreamed of the big competitions, of the Nationals that they watched every year, of the Olympics that came around every four years, but by the time she was eight or nine and started to understand exactly how hard it was to get there, Brittany began to realize that it wouldn't be easy like she had thought. The fact that she was even on the ice, at the TD Garden, in contention for a medal that would proclaim her to be among the best pairs skaters in the whole of the United States, well that was enough for Brittany.

Everything else was a wonderful bonus.

* * *

_"Those were beautiful spins from this pair. Very in synch."_

_"Absolutely. Up next is another side-by-side element. They're doing their jump combination, a triple flip-triple toe-double toe. It is one of the more difficult jump combinations we'll see here tonight."_

_"Jumps don't usually give them a lot of problems, Cassandra. Excellent triple flip there, definitely the inside edge for both of them. Nice triple toe."_

_"Oooh. Mike Chang definitely landed that last double toe with two feet. That's going to cost them some points from the judges. He just didn't have enough height to get his feet out in time."_

_"Brittany's was beautiful, though. Excellent height. Still, it will cost them, but hopefully not too much. It's a small mistake but we'll see where it puts them in the standings. With the score from Missy and Scott, that may mean second place or lower."_

* * *

Even with the little stumble, Brittany was still feeling amazing. She had seen the ice fly up on Mike's landing, too much for a perfectly clean end to the jump, but the lift right after, their hardest, had gone perfectly. It was hard not to stay in that spirit when the crowd was so completely on their side. Brittany felt like she was skating in front of a group of friends she had known all her life.

The next piece of their program was their choreographic sequence, which was one of Brittany and Mike's favorite parts. Both had taken extensive dance classes to help their skating and loved it. When they were younger and just starting out in pairs, they had dabbled in ice dancing and even briefly considered a switch. There was just so much joy when it came to interpreting the music and moving to fit that. However, both partners had eventually agreed that they could add ice dancing elements to their pairs routine, but they couldn't get away with jumps or big lifts in ice dancing, so they should stay where they were.

Mike had been able to convince Shelby to have this part of their routine crafted by an ice dancing coach at the rink. Even with their quick feet and deep edges, it had taken them a long time to get absolutely clean. That was part of what she loved about it. It was challenging, but it was beautiful.

Choreo was something that wasn't often appreciated by many skating fans, unless it was absolutely phenomenal, which made the roar of the crowd as they finished particularly satisfying. Brittany was grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt as she reached back with her right hand, grabbing Mike's left. They both lifted their right legs briefly as Mike pulled Brittany close enough to grab her hands. She wrapped her hands around his wrists as they sunk down in their knees. Brittany leaned onto the inside edge of her skate, feeling the grab of the blade against the slick surface of the ice. There was a beat in the music, and Brittany dug her right toe into the ice, vaulting with Mike's help up and off the ice.

She could feel that there was something off a little in her spring. In her excitement, Brittany knew that she had kicked her toe pick in too hard, not quite giving her the lift that she was used to. She instinctively tightened her arms in harder, trying to complete the rotations in time. Her toe was still a little too pointed as she hit the ice. Training took over ahead of thinking and she snapped her arms out and her leg back, trying to get herself in a good position to save the jump. Still, Brittany tipped forward slightly. She gritted her teeth. She wouldn't fall. The burning cold of the ice on her hot palm kept her on her feet, but it cooled her exuberance enough to remind herself that she needed control, even if she was excited.

Brittany felt certain that gold was out of their grasp now. Missy and Scott had been flawless. But gold wasn't really their goal, as much as just being on the podium and a trip to the Olympics. Even just improvement was something she'd be proud to achieve. The last was a given; they were much better than last year. As for the chance to medal and the chance to compete at the Olympics, that was going to come down to the rest of the program. It was time to fight for those goals. Brittany felt her grin return.

"Wow, Cassandra, it doesn't seem like that close call has rattled them at all."

"Definitely not, Rod. Their entry into that lift was flawless. Their smiles barely even flickered. That's one of the qualities that champion teams have. They don't let mistakes get them down. If you let those nerves take hold of you, one mistake can shut down the rest of the program."

"Now, a lift is one thing, but Brittany and Mike are approaching their last jumping element of this program, a side by side triple loop. They were clean on their throw loop earlier, but since then, they've made two minor mistakes on jump elements. If they're rattled, we'll see it here."

"Beautiful! Absolutely clean and great height."

"I don't think they'll take gold away from Missy and Scott, but they've given them a fine run for that spot."

Brittany's cheeks ached more than any other muscle in her body. This was the final thing in their program, their last move before they found out if they'd get a medal and a shot at the Olympic team, and it was a spin. She stepped into the spin facing Mike. They had practiced this spin less than an hour ago, on this very ice, not far from the exact spot they were spinning in now. It had gone perfectly then, and Brittany could already feel how the set up had been flawless the second time. They were centered, spinning smoothly and evenly, even as they both bent down, Mike crouching and extending his leg as Brittany brought hers back. Next was the camel position and Brittany's smile widened as she felt the speed that they had going into it. The final part of their final spin, stepping onto the other foot and lowering themselves down to the broken leg spin.

Mike's smile, inches from her own, was just as unrestrained.

They rose up together on the last notes of the music, ending posed together, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, free arms outstretched. As the last note of music faded, Brittany and Mike lowered their arms to their sides, and looked down at the ice.

There was a moment of pause in the stadium and then the crowd roared. Brittany couldn't help but pump her fist in victory, whooping once to the air before grabbing Mike in a bear hug. He swung her around once before setting her back down on the ice. They grabbed hands and presented themselves to the judges and then each side of the audience. The applause rising from each side made their success feel even greater and Brittany could feel the way that her heart sang as she looked to each side, ending with the most important one.

Brittany could see Santana's expression from across the ice and she felt a soft blush rise on her cheeks - hidden by make-up and exertion - at the look on Santana's face. She looked so proud of Brittany and Brittany honestly hadn't really realized how important that was to her. Brittany pushed off, gliding quickly across the ice, stopping only to scoop up a plush strawberry in her path and to wave to the little girl who had run down the stairs to throw it. She didn't even bother to slow down as she approached the door of the rink, leaping off the ice to gather Santana into the biggest hug she could manage. Santana laughed as she stumbled back a step but stayed on her feet and wrapped her arms just as tightly around Brittany.

"You guys were... perfect." Santana murmured, looking up into Brittany's eyes. For a moment, Brittany just let herself take in Santana's face. Her eyes were so deep and wonderful. It was amazing that anyone could give off such warmth and sweetness and understanding with nothing more than a lingering look, but Santana did it better than anyone else.

"Thanks to my good luck charm," Brittany said, squeezing Santana one more time and then letting her go. After a short pause, she added, "I've been carrying around this dirty tissue in my pocket for three months. It seems to have worked." Brittany quirked her eyebrow at Santana and couldn't even fight the smile as she watched delight spread over Santana's face, brightening her eyes again and making her mouth sparkly and sweet.

Mike came up behind them and clapped his hand on Brittany's shoulder. "You guys were awesome." Santana said to him, her smile clean-cut but genuine.

"Thanks, Santana," he said with a goofy smile in return. "We better sit before they give us our scores." Mike nodded towards the kiss and cry. Brittany nodded, taking her guards from Santana with a wink before heading to the bench with Mike. She slid beside Shelby, glancing down at the screen that was replaying one of their mistakes, her hand on the ice. Shelby's expression was fairly neutral, but Brittany knew from years of experience that that meant very little about how she was actually feeling. When her hand came out to squeeze Brittany's knee gently, Mike and Brittany shared a grin, knowing that she was proud of how they had performed.

"The factored free skate score for Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang, please." The chatter of the audience fell silent as the announcer came over the intercom. "For the free skate, Pierce and Chang have scored 139.11 points for a total score of 201.95 points. They are in second place."

"Yeah!" Mike cheered.

Brittany hugged Shelby, who smiled at her, before slapping her hand against Mike's. "We did it!" They had won the silver medal and done their absolute best to show the committee that they deserved to be on the plane to Sochi in a month. And the five point difference between them and Anderson and Cohen-Chang in third was another good point in their favor.

Brittany turned to look at Santana. The thumbs up and shining smile was the only thing she needed to see to know that this was everything she had been dreaming of for this moment. Brittany waved to the crowd.

* * *

Santana stepped onto the ice, waving at the people who cheered and waved signs at her. Everyone was pretty focused on the board, waiting for Quinn's scores, but Santana was trying her hardest to block it all out, to not let the pressure of the audience or the pressure of whatever monster number Quinn was about to get wear on her nerves. It wasn't easy, even when she looked over and caught sight of the bright blonde of Brittany's ponytail from where she was leaning against the mats. Brittany gave her a thumbs up just as the announcer came over the intercom. Santana wound up into a spin to block out whatever number was being broadcast, but it wasn't enough to erase the sound of the cheer that followed. Gold was out of her reach, for certain. Without the triple axel in this routine, she had nothing to set her over Quinn, who had beat her without it in the short. Still, there were three spots to Sochi. Gold didn't have to be her goal. Silver or even bronze could get her there.

Without the luxury of a body of work to stand on, though, this was going to be an important program. For every victory and medal in her history, there seemed to be a glaring error or blown program in which she did nothing but crash and burn. It didn't paint a reliable picture for the committee, and if she didn't pull through with this routine, then she would mark herself out as a skater that crumbled under pressure. Santana knew they wouldn't send that kind of a skater to the Olympics.

Santana glided over to the boards, bending down to check her boots, making sure they were both knotted securely. She rose and took the tissue that Will offered. "It's time," he told her. "Time for you to prove that you deserve to be here. That you're the skater that people say you can be." Santana nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach and the creep of worried stiffness into her shoulders. "Don't fall. And remember: flight." Will grabbed both of Santana's hands and gave them a quick squeeze and then stepped away. Santana blew her nose, turning away from the boards as the voice came over the loudspeaker.

"Up next, from the Skating Club of Boston, Santana Lopez."

Santana waved, gliding to the center of the ice, trying to force a smile on her face. There was a cheer from the crowd. It was loud enough that it nearly drowned out the announcer's voice saying her name. Santana looked up from center ice for a moment, taking in the signs waving in the audience and the sheer number of people, most seats filled from the people close to the ice all the way up the rafters, individual people invisible to her at that point. They were all watching her and expecting her to do well. She couldn't disappoint them.

Santana pushed off, gliding around the ice once more, shaking out each of her legs in turn. She stepped onto a backwards edge and brought her left foot up and behind her, extending her arms into a landing position before gliding back to center ice and striking her starting pose. She pressed one hand to her chest and the other she extended slightly, aimed down towards the logo on the ice. She crossed one foot behind the other and waited.

The moment of silence and the anticipation of the whole audience fell on her shoulders and Santana felt like she couldn't breathe.

As gentle piano started, Santana lifted her head, and brought her free arm up, dragging it behind her head and down again. As the violin started in, she pushed off, gliding backwards around a circle. It was a simple sequence of steps to start, but Will had repeated it hundreds of times, using keyword after keyword to try to get Santana to emote the elation and sweet love of the music.

Tchaikovsky was Will's favorite composer, and he had been saving this Romeo and Juliet piece for this Olympic season. He had chosen Sleeping Beauty for Santana last year. It was a beautiful piece, undoubtedly, but Santana had never really been able to connect to it the way that she should. Whenever she tried to really connect, her skating broke down, and she fell. It was just too much to consider the story of Romeo and Juliet, the things that those characters must have felt, not to mention the feelings of the composer writing them. She couldn't do it all.

Will had eventually conceded to switch the music and had brought in the Andre Rieu version. He had written "TRAGIC" on his clipboard and proudly proclaimed that it was the perfect switch:they would be able to focus more on other aspects of the program because they would have to spend less time trying to work on the emotions on Santana's face.

Santana continued her path, her movements slow and long, before stepping into her first spin. She bent low into her legs, extending her left leg straight out in front of her and leaning down on it. She counted the rotations in her head, focusing on making sure that she didn't lose a single level for some dumb mistake like miscounting the rotations of a spin and coming out too early.

When she had gotten enough, Santana brought her left leg in and stepped it down on the ice, tightening her body back down to the sit position with her right leg extended as soon as she was certain of her balance. She wanted to keep up her speed, to keep her marks high from the judges. Every point counted at this moment because, if she made a mistake, she needed to keep herself afloat somehow. Silver and bronze could slip away just as quickly as gold had.

Santana rose pulling her free leg up behind her and leaning back slightly as she finished out her combination with a catch-foot spin. Each of the rotations was carefully counted in her head, and she let out a sigh of relief as she glided out of spin. It was only one thing, though, and there were a lot more steps, jumps, spins, and potential places to lose points before she could finally relax.

In time with the music, Santana leaned deeply into a spiral, her leg straight and high behind her. The tension eased out of her shoulders slightly as she pressed her hands to her chest and then brought them out in front of her as she glided across the ice. Her mind flickered back to this morning, executing this jump perfectly for Brittany, and a hint of a smile graced her mouth. She was still focusing though, as she turned her body and then picked sharply into the ice, rising off, her arms and legs tucked tight to her body. She landed and swept her arms and free leg out, checking her rotation and controlling the landing. The hint of the smile dropped off Santana's face. It wasn't nearly as high as the one that she had done for Brittany this morning. She really needed to be performing better than that or she'd never make the podium.

* * *

_"Wow, Cassandra. That's all I've got to say about this girl. Wow! And from that spiral! Wow!"_

_"Santana is a great technical skater. She doesn't really have a set of elements that are weak, but her jumps are by far her best elements."_

_"Definitely. That was one of the neatest, tightest lutzes that we've seen today. Quinn Fabray can't even touch it."_

_"And watch again in this combination coming up. She just seems to glide over a huge amount of ice. It's such a big jump."_

_"Yes, here she goes. Again. Triple loop, massive. And a triple toe. That might as well have been its own jump, for the height and power she gave it!"_

_"One thing is for sure, Rod, Santana Lopez must feel like she's having as good a skate as her friend Brittany Pierce did earlier today."_

* * *

Santana leaped into her camel spin, holding her body in a straight line as she turned, her teeth clenched tightly together. She hadn't had any huge errors yet, nothing that would necessarily lose her a ton of points, but there were a lot of things that she could have done much better. And her emotionality was all wrong, she knew. She just had to keep going and hope that it all turned out okay in the end. Maybe one of the other skaters had fallen. Santana immediately felt bad for thinking that.

Suddenly, with a feeling like a stone dropping into the pit of her stomach, Santana realized that she had forgotten to count her rotations. Hurriedly, her body tighter than ever, she tuned into the music, waiting for the beat that she was supposed to move. Santana heard the violin note that she was pretty sure that she had moved on many times before, but she wasn't completely sure. Still, the rest of the program had to fit the music as well and if she missed it, it could throw everything else off. She didn't have time to make any other decision, so Santana glided out of the spin with the music and began her step sequence, moving in long, sweeping deep edges, her arms echoing the movement of the music as she skated.

Still, her movements were obviously robotic, because Santana's mind was back on the other end of the ice, trying to figure out if she had honestly spun around six times or not. She usually aimed for eight, to make sure that she was over that mark, but it might have only been five, which would mean a major loss of points.

Santana was focused so much on if she had completed her spin or not that she allowed her step sequence to bring her a little too close to the boards and now she had to lean quite noticeably to keep from hitting her arm on them. The music continued to march on behind her, though, and Santana knew that she needed to keep going. In fact, she needed to nail this triple flip if she was going to have a shot at the podium.

* * *

_"Something seems to have rattled Santana down there. That was a close call with the boards."_

_"Definitely, Rod, but there's no time in a program like this to stop and collect yourself. You have to just keep going. Luckily, her jumps seem to be her-"_

_"Oh, no."_

* * *

Santana winced and pushed herself off the ice. She wasn't even sure exactly what had happened. Her toe pick had just slipped on her take off and she hadn't been able to get around, but she hadn't seen what had happened. She could feel tears welling in her eyes and a weight on her heart. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. Two days ago, Santana had done a double run of this exact program and had nailed every move. Now, when it counted, she couldn't get out of her head long enough to get her feet on the ice. There was no chance of silver now, not with a fall like that. Even if someone else fell. Bronze was a possibility still, but a small one. Pewter was the more likely medal, if there was one to be had. If she could just hold it together for the rest of this, maybe she'd have something to hang on her wall other than a rigorous practice schedule to combat her shame.

The music didn't wait for any mistakes and neither did the judging panel so Santana hurriedly pushed off, gaining speed so she could hit her next element on the mark and try to regain at least some points for her skating skills and musicality. She glided backwards on her right foot, looking over her left shoulder. Santana took a deep breath, envisioning the perfect jump, and stepped forward onto her left foot.

What she needed, if she wanted even the smallest chance of being on the plane to Sochi, was a perfect combination of jumps, all clean and high, with a tight position in the air and easy soft landings. A double axel-triple toe loop-double toe loop combination wasn't the most difficult combination in Santana's repertoire. She should be able to do this.

For a moment, she even briefly pictured what it would be like if she could slip her triple axel in right here. A triple axel, clean, followed by two more jumps, in the second half of her program... It might be enough points to get that silver medal around her neck. In her brief moment of thought as she brought her body through, Santana felt the dread clinging to her throat and stomach lift.

When she brought her body around, Santana couldn't manage to get the lift that she needed for a double axel. Two and a half spins took height and airtime and she just didn't have it. Santana only made it around for a single axel before she landed. Her heart was thudding in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of skating and without stopping to think, Santana automatically bent low in her knee and picked into the ice, driving up hard and pulling herself in tightly. Triple toes were nothing. She had to be able to do this. She had to.

By sheer determination, Santana mustered enough power to make the three rotations, but coming out of the dead, off-balance landing of her axel set her up wrong. As the cold ice soaked through her tights once more, Santana let out a wet gasp and considered not getting back up. It would be easy to just sit on the ice until they stopped her music or it ended and then slink off.

A cheer suddenly broke through Santana's haze and she remembered with a jolt that there were more people in the stadium than herself, Brittany, Will, and the judges. There were thousands of people who had just watched her bomb what should have been an easy silver. There were thousands of people who were wondering how she had even made it to this place at all if all she could do was fall. Thousands of eyes watching her on the ice and projected on the screen as she made a fool of herself. Santana knew that she couldn't sit on the ice and let the humiliation get any worse.

Santana also knew there wasn't much she could do to change the outcome at this point. Some steps across the ice and a spin weren't going to be enough to rescue her score.

Santana rose again, and stepped into her sequence across the ice, just focusing on staying on her feet, on not falling any more times and embarrassing herself further. All of her attention was on her feet and the ice and her arms performed their movements through little more than rote muscle memory. At the end, she wound up and stepped into her spin, ducking low into a broken leg spin, her free leg gliding inches above the ice as she turned. Santana grabbed her foot and rose up with it, pulling it up in front of her and over her head. She let go and swung her foot down and behind her, leaning backwards as her arms came up to counterbalance and keep her steady. Finally, she slowly pulled her arms into her chest, standing straight, right leg tucked over her left. The seats became a blur, and it wasn't entirely due to her speed.

As the last note lingered, Santana slowed to a stop and pressed one hand over her heart as she looked down.

The audience cheered.

It felt like pity.

Swallowing hard, Santana shook her head and turned to each side of the stadium, staying only long enough to be respectful before skating hurriedly towards the boards, just wanting to be off the ice and away from the cameras. She didn't even want to know her scores.

* * *

_"Wow, Rod, that could not have gone much worse for Santana Lopez."_

_"What happened out there? She was brilliant at the start of this free skate but by the end, she just fell apart."_

_"That's the pressure of the skating world, Rod, undoubtedly. It's one thing to land things in practice, but another to come out here and do them on the ice, in front of all of these people, when it really matters. Something just seemed to get in her head and she couldn't recover from it."_

_"It may have had something to do with the huge score that Quinn Fabray posted just before Santana took the ice. The two have been rivals since the moment that Santana started competing at this level."_

_"Watch here, this was the first big mistake that Lopez made tonight, on her triple flip. The entrance started out great, with a nice solid inside edge, but you can see here, how she doesn't get deep enough in that bend, so her toe pick skids there. At that point, it was over for that jump."_

_"Compare that one especially to that gorgeous lutz from earlier. You can see on the screen, how deep that outside edge is as she goes into it, how deep she gets into her knee and then that lift and the height she covers. Absolutely textbook."_

_"It just wasn't her night, Rod."_

* * *

Santana kept her eyes on the ice until it was time to step off. She didn't want to see Will's face. Or Brittany's. She could still hear what Brittany had said that morning, but she didn't see how anyone could think what she had done on the ice was great. Not even Brittany.

As soon as she was off the ice, a hand wrapped around her wrist. Santana looked down at the long fingers and pale skin. Even if she hadn't been looking at bright yellow nails, Santana would have known that hand. Still, she found a spot of lint on Brittany's black leggings and looked at that, rather than risk seeing disappointment in her best friend's face. After a moment though, there was gentle pressure from Brittany's fingers under her chin and Santana gave in, looking up slowly through her eyelashes to Brittany's face. She was so close that Santana could see the individual shades of her blue, blue irises and the faint sparkle of blush still on her cheeks.

For a moment Brittany didn't say anything. She just looked deeply into Santana's eyes, reading each emotion that echoed there, the language that Brittany had always understood better than anyone else in Santana's life. She didn't think there was anything Brittany could say to make her feel better. She had blown it. No one else was at fault.

"I'm proud of you," Brittany finally said, her voice soft so that only Santana could catch the words.

Santana gasped as something inside of her let go. She brought her arms around Brittany and hugged her tightly, squeezing her eyes shut as Brittany hugged her back. It didn't fix anything, for sure. Santana had still embarrassed herself with that performance and lost any shot she had at a ticket to Sochi. But to know that Brittany wasn't ashamed of her - that was enough for this moment.

It couldn't last long, though. Even with all of the deductions and reviews that judges would be tallying up, Santana knew that her score would come up sooner or later, and she had to be there in the kiss and cry to receive it. Reluctantly, Santana let go of Brittany and took her guards, slipping them on before walking to the bench and taking a seat. She could tell from what she could see of Will out of the corner of her eye that he was sitting in the tense, tight way that he did when she had really messed up. Regardless of what competitions were coming up next, even if there were none, Santana knew that she would have a lot of drills to make up for this.

Santana looked up, her knee jittering as she wrung her hands, waiting for the numbers to flash up on the screen. She had done okay for the first half of the program. It wasn't going to be a great score, but she had been in second by a good amount. She expected that when it was all over, she would probably be in fourth or fifth. They weren't good positions to be in, but there were worse places to be.

"The factored free skate score for Santana Lopez, please." Santana felt her heart thump in her chest and her ears, drowning out the sound around her. All she could think was please, please, please please... "For the free skate, Santana Lopez has scored 101.24 points for a total score of 166.34 points. She is in seventh place."

Santana let out the breath she had been holding, her heart dropping down to the bottom of her stomach. She could see that she had scored tenth for her free skate. Apparently, even the first half of her program, when she had thought she had been doing okay, she hadn't. She hadn't been able to do anything worth watching on the ice, and everyone had seen. Santana could still see her face on the screen and knew that everyone around her, all of the thousands of people, could see her too. They were still watching her and judging her for her skate, for her reaction, for her score.

She couldn't take it for another minute.

Santana stood and bolted, clamping her face down into a disgruntled, offended expression so that she didn't have to cry in front of the audience. On her way, her shoulder bumped into a cameraman. She was about to apologize before she remembered, horrified, that not only did the audience of thousands here see her absolutely fail, but who-even-knew-how-many people had seen at home, as well.

Santana burst through the doors into the hallway beyond, moving as fast as her guards let her until she found an empty hallway. She leaned her back against the cool concrete and bent over, pressing her hands into her knees and breathing hard. She honestly wasn't sure if she was about to throw up or cry or scream or any combination of that.

Footsteps jogging in her direction made her bolt upright and Santana froze when she saw Brittany come to a stop just in front of her. Brittany opened her mouth to say something and Santana felt the tears suddenly well in her eyes until she could hardly see.

"I'm sorry," she managed before she threw her arms around Brittany's neck, hiding her face in the collar of Brittany's jacket. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed, shaking as she cried.

Brittany wrapped her arms tightly around Santana's back, holding her as she swayed slightly. "Shhh," she murmured, "Shhh, it's okay. You're okay." There wasn't much else she could say at the moment. Brittany turned her face to nudge her nose against Santana's temple and press a kiss there. She didn't try to stop Santana from crying. She just rocked slowly and held her close.

There wasn't anything to say.


End file.
